Orlando florida gay bar shooting
The federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives said Mr. Mateen, who lived in Fort Pierce, Fla., was able to continue working as a security guard with the security firm G4S, where he had worked since 2007, and he was able to buy guns.
Still, he is believed to be on at least one watch list. Mateen had any real connection to terrorism or had broken any laws. Mateen in 2013 when he made comments to co-workers suggesting he had terrorist ties, and again the next year, for possible connections to Moner Mohammad Abusalha, an American who became a suicide bomber in Syria, said Ronald Hopper, an assistant agent in charge of the bureau’s Tampa Division. The authorities, however, said they did not know of any connection between the California arrest and the Orlando shooting. Law enforcement officials in Santa Monica, Calif., confirmed the arrest on Sunday of a heavily armed man who said he was in the area for West Hollywood’s gay pride parade. Mateen, leaving him dead and an officer wounded, his life saved by a Kevlar helmet that deflected a bullet.įears of violence led to heightened security at lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender events and gathering places around the country. Over a dozen police officers and sheriff’s deputies engaged in a shootout with Mr. Wolf that her son had been inside.Ī three-hour standoff followed the initial assault, with people inside effectively held hostage until around 5 a.m., when law enforcement officials led by a SWAT team raided the club, using an armored vehicle and explosives designed to disorient and distract. to news of the shooting, and learned from Mr.
His mother, Christine, anxious because of health problems, had woken at 3 a.m. Guerrero outside, his body riddled with gunshot wounds.īut no one knew what had become of Mr. A friend, Brandon Wolf, watched people carry Mr. Among them was Juan Ramon Guerrero, a 22-year-old man of Dominican descent who had gone to the club with his boyfriend, Christopher Leinonen, who goes by the name Drew, because they wanted to listen to salsa. He is a hairstylist, and everybody knows him.”Ī tally of victims whose relatives had been notified began slowly building on a city website by 6 p.m., it had six names. “I cannot understand why they can’t tell me anything because my brother is a very well-known person here in Orlando. “We are here suffering, knowing nothing,” said Baron Serrano, whose brother, Juan Rivera, 36, had been celebrating a friend’s birthday with his husband and was now unaccounted for.
They were told that so many were gunned down that victims would be tagged as anonymous until the hospital was able to identify them. More than 12 hours after the attack, anguished relatives paced between Orlando Regional Medical Center and a nearby hotel as they waited for word. Hundreds of people gathered in the glare of flashing red lights on the fringes of the law enforcement cordon around the nightclub, and later at area hospitals, hoping desperately for some word on the fates of their relatives and friends. The club posted a stark message on its Facebook page: “Everyone get out of pulse and keep running.” Some people who were trapped inside hid where they could, calling 911 or posting messages to social media, pleading for help. The shooting began around 2 a.m., and some patrons thought at first that the booming reports they heard were firecrackers or part of the loud, thumping dance music. Pulse, which calls itself “Orlando’s Latin Hotspot,” was holding its weekly “Upscale Latin Saturdays” party. Joel Figueroa and his friends “were dancing by the hip-hop area when I heard shots, bam, bam, bam,” he said, adding, “Everybody was screaming and running toward the front door.”